“Do you not know what, if Mr. Rockharrt were to discover the deception you put upon him, he might do and think himself justified in doing to you?”

Rose shuddered in silence.

“The very least that he would do would be to turn you out of his house, without a dollar, and shut his doors on you forever.  Then what would become of you?  Who would take you in?”

“Oh, Fabian!” she screamed at last.  “Do not talk to me so.  You will frighten me into hysterics.”

“Now don’t make a noise.  For if you do, you will precipitate the catastrophe that you fear.  Be quiet, I beg you,” said Mr. Fabian, composedly, putting his thumbs in his vest pockets and leaning back.

“Why do you say such cruel things to me, then?  Such inconsistent things, too.  If I was good enough to marry you, I was good enough to marry your father.”

“But you were never good enough to marry either of us, my dear.  If you will take a little time to reflect on your antecedents, you will acknowledge that you were not quite good enough to marry any honest man,” said Mr. Fabian, coolly.

“Yet you asked me to marry you,” she said, sobbing softly, with her handkerchief to her eyes.

“Beg pardon, my dear.  I think the asking was rather on the other side.  You were very urgent that we should be married, and that our betrothal should be formally announced.”

“Yes; because you led me to believe that you were going to marry me.”

“Excuse me.  I never led you to believe so, simply allowed you to believe so.  What could a gentleman do under the circumstances?  He couldn’t contradict a lady.”

“Oh, what a prevarication, Fabian Rockharrt, when every word, every deed, every look you bestowed on me went to assure me that you loved me and wished to marry me!”

“Softly, my dear.  Softly.  I was sorry for you and generous to you.  I gave you the use of a pretty little house and a sufficient income during good behavior.  But you were ungrateful to me, Rose.  You were unkind to me.”

“I was not.  I would have married you.  I could not have done more than that.”

“But, my dear, your good sense must have told you that I could not marry you.  I have done the best I could by you always.  Twice I rescued you from ruin.  Once when you were but little more than a child, and your boy-lover, or husband, had left you alone, a young stranger in a strange land—­a girl friendless, penniless, beautiful, and so in deadly peril of perdition, I took you on your own representation, and introduced you into my own family as the governess of my niece.  I became responsible for you.”

“And did I not try my best to please everybody?” sobbed the woman.

“That you did,” heartily responded Mr. Fabian.  “And everybody loved you.  So that, at the end of five years’ service, when my niece was to enter a finishing school, and you were to go to another situation, you took with you the best testimonials from my father and mother and from the minister of our parish.  But you did not keep your second situation long.”